Tuesday, June 9, 2020

Enjoy Selected Poems from Conversations With God: Volume One | Reflection & Protest Poetry





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~~*~~


It's that sense of collapsing sanity,
like I'm being sucked into a black hole of lunacy.
I feel it.
I see it.
I hear it.
It's in the videos and the quotes and the tweets.
Those infernal, soul-crushing tweets,
like some hell-bird shrieking over the tattered
and scorched earth of our democracy.

It tugs at me, harder and harder,
tearing at me, pulling me apart,
ripping my spirit,
my faith,
more and more each day.

What is in people's souls?
Ding! Ding! We have our answer!
There it is on full display.
They wear it on their sleeves now he's in office.
Proudly!
Like it's something to be proud of!
Like it's something to stand up for!

Now he's in office they feel entirely justified
in burning and terrorizing and shooting
and assaulting and banning and taking away and deporting and tiki-torching.

Now he's in office they have leeched onto to their Twitters and Facebooks,
and there they spray-paint their hate-vomit, and greedily lick more up.
Now he's in office they scream about having the exclusive Caucasian love
of a prophet who wasn't Caucasian,
who would recoil in horror at their soullessness,
their divisiveness, their callous cruelty, their inhuman apathy.

Now he's in office they can bleach this gloriously prismatic land
and sell it off to the filthy-oily while baking in the ever-hotter
sun that isn't hotter, they proclaim.
No, that's not settled science.

What are they making great again?
Their delusions, surely.
Their hatred, absolutely.
Their ignorance, without a doubt.
Their cruelty. Oh yes.

But America?
America was already great.

Now he's in office ...
      now he's in office ...
          sweet Jesus ...
               now that monster is in office ...

... that measure only applies to how far we have since fallen,
and to the measure of the gravity of that lunatic white-hole.
It's one we have, each of us, each one of us, chosen for ourselves.
For our children.
For the dying world they will inherit—and not want, and will surely curse.
God love them and keep them.
Bigly. Greatly.


~~*~~


I know you didn't cause it.
Point-blank ignorance and stupidity, born, bred, and fed by humans did.
It wasn't your will, as so many self-appointed spokespersons claim.
They should be selling used cars, not claiming to speak for you.
Con-men and -women, the lot of 'em.

This country is coming apart at the seams.
Well-fed point-blank ignorance and stupidity will do that.
So will indifference.
That's just as bad. Maybe worse.
Fence-sitters and yawners deserve to burn.
Too bad I don't believe in Hell.
Oh yes: a very real part of me wants to watch them pay
for their rank absurdness, for their refusal to look beyond their noses,
for being more concerned about what's on TV later,
for living in their closed-off echo chambers,
for spewing hate and calling it love,
for being total herd animals.

Herd animals.
I don't think that's what you had in mind when you created us.
But that's what we've become.

This isn't the time to "live and let live."
Too many too powerful are working every day to divide and destroy us.
Too many too soulless are working every day to increase
the point-blank ignorance and stupidity,
are working every day to increase the apathy.
Too many used-car salesmen are spouting words
they claim you said but didn't,
and ignoring all those you did.
Too many wrap themselves in red, white, and blue
and don't have a fucking clue.

The war has already begun.

It isn't your fault. It's ours. It's all of ours.
We own it.
Whether we survive it is another matter entirely.
I'm just so sorry that we, whom you created in your image,
have spread shit all over the mirror.


~~*~~


It rises, inevitably gray, and sinks pink soon after.
It used to hurt that such was so.
I didn't understand.
The light couldn't reach my soul because it was in hiding,
not because winter was upon the world.
I spent thousands of dollars trying to understand.
But he wasn't a healer, and he didn't care.

The steel ocean swells and sways.
Last year it spoke to me.
It was during this month, probably almost to the day.
It didn't use words. It knows no words.
It spoke to my soul--the one that has long since come out from the dark.
It rose the tide inside as its own tide overwhelmed the rocks and the seals barked,
and very far out a lonely light glimmered in and out of lazy fog.
I asked my soul to tell me what it said. This was my soul's translation:

Suffering isn't necessarily good for the soul.
The slow hand, the steady hand, the strong hand ...
let those be your truths.
Remember, but remember well.
Respect the doubt inside you,
but walk past the thickets of doubters without.
Live with this moment inside you;
and I'll see you next year.


~~*~~


What fascinates me is this:
Why aren't you fascinated?

Seconds, minutes, hours, days.
Weeks, months, years.
>BUZZER!<
You're dead!

What did you spend your life doing?
Did you answer the unique and primal ache
each and every one of us has?
Or did you (almost certainly) ignore it?
Life is: school, marriage, kids, house, job, retirement, death.
And in-between consuming as much as you can
to stifle that ache.
And in-between:
constantly comparing yourself to your neighbors and coworkers.
And in-between:
kissing as much richer or more powerful ass as you can.
And in-between:
being steadily inured into Oblivion by the constant
messages of advertisers:
You aren't good enough!
You aren't rich enough!
You aren't sexy enough!
You're getting old!
You're getting fat!
You're socially unacceptable!
Why aren't you using fabric softener on that limp collar, loser!

And here's the thing:
This is all normal to you.
This is all acceptable to you.
This is "just the way life is."
It's a great excuse,
for it absolves you from taking any action whatsoever
to fix it, to find yourself again,
to find that unique and primal ache.

Your "just the way life is" life is a disease.
Because of it the world is now burning
and governments are now peopled by the monstrous.
The commons have become a toxic landfill
and that primal ache in you is now years dead.

Which means you are too.
Your body just hasn't caught up to the fact.


~~*~~


There is a light—
steady, unwavering, real.
Beyond real.
Greater than.
Does it matter what I call it?
Does if matter if I call it anything at all?
It is always there—
even when I can't see it.
Or maybe I should say:
even when my soul can't see it.

There is a light.


~~*~~


Brownian Motion
noun, Physics.
1. the irregular motion of small particles suspended in a liquid or a gas, caused by the bombardment of the particles by molecules of the medium: first observed by Robert Brown in 1827.

------

It can't continue this way,
day to day.
It just can't.

It's what most people are, you know.
Brownian motion machines.
Slaves of the moment.
Unconsidered.
Haters of solitude.
Always in motion.
Hurrying here, festinating there.
Afraid to sit. To disconnect.
To think.
To meditate.
To appreciate.
To listen to God.

They refuse to look past the ends of their noses.
Most don't even go that far!
The skin of their foreheads is the frontier for most of them.
Pathetic pilgrims.

Freedom is negotiable.
Privacy is yesterday.
The cheapest and latest—
that's all that matters to them.
And likes.
It's what they've reduced themselves to.
Brownian motion machines.

Addicted.
Enslaved.
Chains aren't needed.
If chains came with the latest "apps," however,
many would clap themselves in irons
and be happy doing it.

How many days lost?
This person ... and that one ... and that one.
Add them up, unique to each one.
Gone. Lost. In the billions.
Trillions?
Soul and spirit replaced with bits.
Love and laughter replaced with thumbs-up.
Community replaced with a virtual lake of consumption light-years wide
and infinitely shallow.
Sail away, morons!

What have we become, O Lord?
Why should I care what these digital sheep get up to?
They've tried to kill me so many times I've lost count.
I have almost nothing in common with them.
They call it "trans-humanism."
I call it Brownian motion machines,
each pinballing mindlessly off each other,
each soullessly, desperately seeking the next "like,"
each consuming without thought, without consideration,
without balance, without morality, without integrity,
without restraint, without decency.

"Trans-humanism": another word for
exploited
unconscious
unliving.

Brownian motion machines.


~~*~~


The shadows of lesser men.
The examples I’m supposed to look up to.
The values. The likes and dislikes.
The politics. The worldview. The religion.
The shadows of lesser men.

Their currency is a gravity that destroys all light.
Who wants a shot?

Trump isn't so bad. At least he's doing something about
all those illegals.
If you don't like him, you can leave!

#MeToo? Fuck that.
Buncha angry lesbians who want
to pollute the minds of our kids.
Lock that bitch Hillary up already!
Put her in a cell next to Jane Fonda!
White men built America.
It's ours!

You're penniless, you cuck snowflake pinko fag?
You're worthless!
Never married? You are a fag! You must be!
Never owned property?
Fuckin' failure.
Never had kids?
Good. At least your spawn won't be runnin' around!

We're men.
We're real men.
Fuck those Women's Marches!
If they were gettin' it like they should,
they'd be makin' dinner at six
and be damn happy about it!

Fuck their right to choose!
Why the fuck we allowed them the right to vote is beyond me.
They have the inalienable right to suck our dicks and launder our underwear,
and to raise our kids as good God-fearin' Christians!
That's all they should aspire to. Any more is unnatural.

Build the wall!
(That is, after those filthy browns harvest my dinner.)
De-regulate everything!
Coal! Coal! Coal!
If you like solar power, you must be a Hillary-votin' homo.
Kill them all!
Science? Climate? Equality?
What, are you some sort of int'lect-u-al?

Build the wall!

It's all fake news anyway.
Fox News says it is, and that's good enough for me.

We're glad Russia interfered in the election!
Fuck those Democrats!
If we have to, we'll stick 'em in the same camps we've
stuck all those little brown rugrats in.
The FBI is corrupt!
Hang Mueller!
Ivanka is how I want my daughter to grow up.
She's classy.

Buy more tiki torches! Suppress the vote!
We're gonna make America great again!


~~*~~